Do You Want To Have A Christmas Drink?
by Macca's Little Teddy Bear
Summary: Well, I was just sitting in a Starbucks drinking my liquid gold (sorry, hot chocolate) when I have someone literally breathing down my neck. Very different...but then again, who can resist Paul McCartney? Okay, just kidding. But...why is he breathing down my neck? Not ATU. Modern AU.
1. Buying Liquid Gold

**A/N: **Hey guys! Basically I got the Beatles as an early Christmas gift! Ha, in your faces! Wait...what are these scary men in suits here doing?...What? I don't own the Beatles? Are you serious!? Ugh...alright, I don't own the Beatles guys! Take my gift...fine! Anyways, I got this idea from an awesome story in the Big Hero 6 called "Share A Table". All I got from it was that it sets in a coffee shop...with the two main characters drinking something. The rest is sleep deprivation and sugar rush induced writing. Seriously. So enjoy!

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><p>I sat at a corner table in Starbucks, enjoying my hot chocolate in peace and relaxation. Well, it was actually very loud in here because like every holiday, Starbucks has a long list of deals, so of course people would come in. But this place has great Wi-Fi and the atmosphere is...great so I continued to type away at my laptop while occasionally sipping at the liquid gold with a lot of extra whip I had.<p>

In all reality I could have done this finals project at home but a certain someone with a jelly babies addition wouldn't leave me alone until I got him a new box of them—which is basically once every few hours—or "do something fun other than typing up college stuff"—which is again every few hours.

I continued to type and type while occasionally changing the position of my Prezi to bring it into a better style than it was before. It wasn't until someone was literally breathing down my neck did I realize another soul actually was near me. Sadly, that took a little while longer than I would like to admit and when I turned to see what was making the new draft on my neck, I shouted like a little girl when I saw wide brown eyes looking straight at me.

"What the hell was that for," I yelled at the strange person who still had their eyes still very close to mine. The person—a guy who looked close to my age—moved back and sat in the chair right across from me.

And with the most serious face I have seen in a long time he said, "I was doing a short study on your reaction time. Judging by how long it took you..." He took a quick pause to look at the watch he _did not_ have. "Your reaction is late and I have to conclude that you have Lennon-itis. It's not fatal but may cause good or bad things if not treated properly."

I blinked at him a few good times and stared at the very serious person who was staring right back at me.

"What's Lennon-itis," I asked, kind of scared of the random disease someone said I had, even though I didn't know the person. It sounded serious in all reality.

"Nothing," the guy across from me said bluntly, his seriousness still on his face. "I just made it up as an ice breaker."

"You made me think I had a disease as a way to talk to me?"

"Well at least I didn't say it was fatal. You probably would have freaked out like this." And then he promptly flailed around, falling out of his chair. I laughed but I knew I wouldn't react like that. I'd probably scream like I did before, that's it. Maybe.

"John Lennon, by the way," the guy greeted and held out his hand. I took it and thought of what I should say. I'm called James by all my teachers and classmates but I don't really like the name. I usually like Paul but there's always the one time I slip up and tell someone James. Guess I'll just have to go with it.

"I'm Paul McCartney, thanks for scaring me with your last name," I said, shaking his hand and giving him a faint smirk. He returned it with an even bigger one and looked around at the coffee shop.

"You know, I need to try out a new holiday drink. What do you suggest, Macca?"

"Macca? Why Macca," I muttered as I started to type again, occasionally looking back up at the person who had a very wistful look on his face for _coffee. _If he were to start thinking about something much more important, I wouldn't be surprised if he took out a chalkboard to put down all his thoughts.

"Because you just look like one. Plus, you have that sort of famous person kind of name and some famous people are called Macca, so why not. Still what type of drink?"

I looked up from my laptop and to the menu, then down to my drink. Well, this is going to be fun.

"How about that new peppermint drink?"

"I don't like peppermint," John said with a groan and started to eye the scones down like they were an arch nemesis.

"How do you not like peppermint and you want a holiday drink?" He rolled his eyes and shrugged a little.

"Don't worry about it, what else?"

"Caramel Brulee? That's okay, yeah?" John stuck his tongue out and shook his head.

"How is that even closely related to Christmas? Hmm anything else?"

"Okay, okay, gingerbread. I was thinking of getting it but I got hot chocolate instead." His face instantly brightened and he jumped from his chair in an excited frenzy.

"That's it," he shouted with pure glee and started to dig in his pocket for his wallet. "I'll get hot chocolate! Thanks Macca!" John then grabbed my hand and steered me straight toward the register.

"And then I can also get those awesome blueberry scones they have," John added with a slight cackle and started to eye the scones again.

"Is that why you were staring them down like the enemy before?"

"No...well, actually yes and no. I was staring at them that way because I'm so mad that they're so good. And I found that eating them was the best torture. For the scones of course. So with every coffee I ever get, I'll get a blueberry scone as revenge for their goodness," He finished with mock anger as he shook his fist to the sky in slow motion.

"Hey, we're at the start of the line now," John noticed brightly and pulled me along with him to get to the front of the line, positively bouncing with joy for hot chocolate.

"Hello! Welcome to Starbucks," the cashier said with a smile and looked in my direction and his smile got wider. "Hey, I know you like the hot chocolate but that doesn't mean you need to get two in one day."

I laughed and shook my head quickly. "No it's not that, Tadashi, John here just wanted to drag me along to watch him get a cup of hot chocolate."

"So he got you hooked on it too," Tadashi asked as he started typing some buttons on the cash register.

"No, I just wanted something that taste like Christmas, Grande size with a blueberry scones," John answered squinted at the scones with a very funny face that kind of looked like an old man frowning at a bad child.

"Okay, that'll be $7 even." Tadashi looked up from the cash register and nearly burst out with laughter as John was slowly counting out all the quarters he had like an old lady, even taking it so far as counting them out loud in a shaky voice.

"Gets them every time," he murmured and stuffed the coins into his pocket to bring out the dollar bills, giving them to Tadashi.

"Okay," Tadashi snickered and started walking over to all the blenders and the people around them. "It'll only take a little while to get those both ready so you guys can just sit down and we'll call you over when we're done. That's fine, right?" Me and John nodded and went back over to the table we were both at before.

I shut my laptop—but saving everything first—and put it into my school bag, getting ready for Lennon to talk or if he would give me the opportunity to talk.

Luckily, he was a bit thrown off by the fact that I put my laptop away so I jumped right into my questions.

"You really hate those pastries up there if you keep squinting at them so much. Any answers for that?" He gave a light laugh and dug into his pocket again to get something out.

"Wow, you'd be a good teacher…or principal. I can't decide which."

"Well, I'm actually studying to be a teacher so thanks for that; but you didn't answer my question."

"See, you would be a good teacher. Anyways, I need glasses because my eyesight's awful. Bat-like even! Like, right now your face is nothing but a round thing with hair growing out of it."

"I hope I look like a handsome round thing then with luscious hair growing out of the top." He laughed and shook his head, setting the glasses on the table.

"Nope…I nearly thought you were a girl till I got to the table. So I guess pretty would fit it."

"Just put on the glasses before I feel like hitting you with them," I chided lightly and looked at them a bit more. They were really thick! He wasn't lying when he said he had the eyesight of a bat.

"Oh…so you aren't a girl. And here I was holding onto that hope."

"Hey, I do not look like a girl!"

"But you kind of do at the eyes. I mean seriously, do you curl your eyelashes or something?"

"Who are you to say? Your glasses magnify your eyes by a hundred and it looks like you've done your fair share of curling."

"Ha! So you do admit to curling your eyes!"

"Ha," I retorted with a wild grin. "You did not deny the accusation!"

"But sir, I don't curl my eyelashes! Just look, I'm not a girl!"

"I do not look like a girl!"

"So you're saying you're not a girl who does actually look like one? How mysterious…"

"No! I am a girl but I don't look like one! Wait, I mean—"

"No! You've already said it! So now I get to call you Paula and bribe you with lip gloss or something…"

"You really don't know anything about girls, do you," I laughed and looked warily as I saw a very mischievous look grace his face.

"Not really…but you do!" And he cackled wildly, nearly falling out of his seat with the fit of laughter he was having.

"Hey, guys! That hot chocolate of yours is awaiting you," Tadashi called from where he was, John basically running up to get the liquid gold he ordered.

"Did you put extra whipped cream in here," He asked, opening the lid up and peering inside.

"Yeah, Paul loves it with extra whip and I guess I accidentally made your orders identical to each other, sorry. Do you want it without the extra whip?" And there was Tadashi being all nice and apologetic as usual. I was just about ready to calm him down and tell him to quit being this nice, it was making me disappointed in myself.

"Who would want it without the extra whipped cream," John asked with wide eyes. "Keep the whipped cream and you can even add extra if you want!"

Tadashi noticeable calmed down and brought out the scones too, which John finally did not squint or glare at, only smiling very happily.

"What time is it," John asked absently. Tadashi looked over at a clock and then at John.

"5:30, why do you ask?" 5:30….George, oh great! I rushed back to my chair, grabbed my jacket and school bag and turned back to face a very confused John.

"I'm sorry but I need to go. I have this—"

"Hey, don't worry about it, Paul. Meet you here tomorrow, say…2pm, okay?" I thought about it for a moment and nodded. That was alright time for me. It was a Saturday so I wouldn't have any classes to bother me about anything. Why not?

"Alright, see you then," I called, waving to both John and Tadashi then going outside and running to my car. I started it up and quite possibly went over the speed limit a couple of times…but let's keep that to ourselves. It's the holidays after all.

I stopped by the store to get some jelly babies and a new book of great songs with sheet music. At the same store of course. Really, what a lifesaver. I got to the apartment building and got my bags, rushing up the steps like a possible mad man. Oh well!

Getting to my door, I pulled out my keys to the apartment and opened the door. Home sweet home.

"Paulie! Did you get my jelly—"

"Yes, I got your jelly bellies and something else too." I didn't even have time to get a few feet into the apartment before a quick ball of boy came straight at me.

"You got me new music sheets! Thank you so much for this!" George then gave me a quick hug and let go just as quickly and gave me a glare. "But you came home late. And you're going to need to give me a very good explanation why."

Yup…home sweet home.

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><p><strong>AN: **Did you like it? Do you want a blueberry scone? Did you not like it and want a peppermint mocha (or whatever...I forgot. XD) just to spite John? Either way review and favourite this very sugar induced chapter and actually story! If you noticed...I put in Tadashi from Big Hero 6! Why not? He was loveable enough to put in. Oh, also George as you see came in and Ringo will come in...soon. I swear Ringo comes in at the most hyper-like moments for me so you better hope I eat a lot of candy next chapter! Anyways, George will be a year and a few months younger than Paul so he will be a sophomore instead of a senior...or something and so this story will make some sense. See ya later guys!

Sending all my love,

Macca's Little Teddy Bear


	2. The Walrus Is Paul

**A/N: **Umm, I've found this great website that can get you individual Beatles members for free! Who would have heard of such a thing?! You know, all I need left is John and-Oh great! Its you guys in the suits. This is Christmas! Do you not realize that a girl needs some awesome stuff?...Ugh, I'm being told that I have to tell you guys that I do not own any of the Beatles and the website is shut down. By the way...big thanks to Doctor Lennon 007, Omgringo and Mysterious Guest (oooh, sounds freaky. 8) ) Thanks for reviewing and all, it made sure I put up a chapter today. XD

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><p>"So you're late why exactly," George pushed again for what felt like the one millionth time in a very lawyer like manner. Which, obviously, was kind of scary.<p>

"Because I was getting your candy, George," I explained as easily as possible because I don't think telling the poor kid I was diagnosed with a fake disease would be a good way of explaining it. Though it would be very truthful...it would not good.

"I don't believe it," he muttered absently and I counted down the minutes it would take for him to tell me he'd need a new bag of that stuff. It was like he was addicted to it, on some level!

But in all reality I was thankful he wasn't addicted to something else. His mom was actually a really nice person, so nice she was okay with George wanting to come over and live in my apartment. But I'm sure she wouldn't be the happiest if something happened to the little guy. And I wouldn't forgive myself either, so it'd be double the worrying and headache.

Anyway, I continued to type and change stuff with George constantly pestering me about other stuff, like if his guitar was tuned properly, or if he was playing certain chords right.

At one point he set the guitar down and went off to the kitchen to eat all the food in sight—sorry having a late dinner. Did I mention he was also terribly addicted to food?

The next day I woke up horribly late, about 11am late. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes but Tadashi must have put something in my drink because I felt like I was on some sort of sugar crash or other stuff that could define my sluggish mind and body. So there was nothing better to do than sleep. It would easily help with everything.

I woke up in what felt like only minutes, feeling much better than the first time I woke up. Maybe staying up till 4am wasn't the best decision.

I looked in the direction of my clock and jumped out of bed in a frantic hurry. Great, its 1:30pm and I still haven't even gotten a shower. Good thinking on going back to sleep, Paul.

I ran into the bathroom, brushed my teeth so quickly I probably got rid of most of my enamel and took what could be the world's quickest shower. As I was stepping out the door—with my clothes on, of course—and grabbing my school bag, George somehow appeared right in front of me. I looked around to see if there were any other ninjas in the apartment but luckily it was just the one.

"What do you need, George," I asked him quickly, looking over his shoulder like John would somehow appear where I was starting holes into.

"I want to go where you're going," he said with tons of excitement that I wouldn't expect on a morning and started to walk down the hall.

"But you can't, you might get bored and end up getting angry or something."

"You said might, so I can come anyways. No problem."

"But it would be awkward if you start to glare at him like he ate your sandwich."

"I'm already in the car, there's nothing you can do about it now," George laughed and jumped around in his seat like someone on a sugar rush...which would explain the nearly empty bag of jelly babies he had in his hand. I couldn't do anything about it but drive as quick as I could with Georgie in the car and him moving possibly faster than the car.

When I stopped the car in front of the Starbucks, George zoomed out of the car with a giddy sort of spring in his step and me two steps right behind him.

"And it's Macca! He may have been," John looked down at the watch he now finally had. "Fourteen minutes late but he's here!"

"It's not my fault though, George was—where's George?"

"Are you making up imaginary friends now? I thought you were older than that," John chided and I scowled in irritation along with confusion as he wagged his pointer finger in my face. I swatted it away, trying to push the question of where George was.

"Ooh! I have someone I want you to meet! His name's Richard but he likes to be called Ringo. Don't ask. And...um...there's a random kid sitting with him. I don't know any random kids." I instantly turned around to where Ringo was and saw George bobbing his head adamantly to whatever the person across from him was saying. John lightly pushed me to the two and that was all I need to rush over.

"I told you there was nothing to worry about, Paulie! Ringo's here to keep me company," George sang with glee and I could see Ringo with a smile on his face from possibly watching George run through all the sugar in his body and still have something left over.

"Paul! We're going to need more jelly babies...they're kind of gone now." And he shook the empty box with a large amount of vigor. Ringo burst out laughing and it somehow made George start to laugh uncontrollably.

"Well, since these two are going to behave immaturely, I think we better go off and have more civilized and adult like conversations without them," John said in a very good British accent and stuck his nose into the air in a haughty matter. I sniffed in mock disgust and stood next to John, nose very high up.

"Let's. These two would merely drag us down in our very intellectual conversations. We will have to leave," I told John in a British accent similar to John's and the two 'children' instantly went into another round of crazy fits of laughter.

We walked away from the other two and waited for someone to come up to the cash register. Finally, someone arrived. And it was Tadashi too!

"You never take a break, do you," I joked as Tadashi moved around like lightning behind the counter.

"No, half the people took a break today because they either needed to go somewhere or they were just sick so we're a bit understaffed." He went over to one of the blenders and started to pour whatever was in it into a giant cup. "And now the rest of us are working just a bit harder than usual. No worries guys."

John looked at the cup and took it from Tadashi's hand to get a better look at it, because once again he didn't have his glasses on.

"Why don't you just wear your glasses instead of taking them out at random times," I asked John as he put the cup so close to his eyes they got cross eyed.

"They bother my nose. And they say the nose is always right."

"Who says that? I've never heard of something like that?"

"Ha! I know something Macca doesn't! Anyways…me and my mom say that stuff. Like if your food smells awful, it's possible your food taste awful."

"And that usually works?"

"Yeah! Why wouldn't it? The nose is always right!" Tadashi came back to take the cup and gave it to someone who looked like a business man, who gave John a dirty look. John returned it with blowing a raspberry in his direction until his face grew red and he got cross eyed again. The man gave John a funny look and I couldn't help but join John in the fun. He then gave up in a grumbling defeat and walked out of the Starbucks gripping his drink so tightly it might burst the second he gets to his car.

The second he got out of his door we both burst into laughter and Tadashi even had to join in.

"So what are you guys going to have," he asked with a wide smile.

"I want the gingerbread latte," John said while bouncing on the balls of his feet with a hyper attitude I remember well. "And with a blueberry scone!"

"You're acting like you've already had a few of those with extra espresso."

"Well...I didn't...at least I think I didn't." And that easily let me believe he had a few. I walked over to George, who was still adamantly talking to Ringo.

"Do you want to have the hot chocolate or—"

"Nope! Eggnog, because it's almost Christmas, a few days away even, and I always have eggnog before Christmas!"

"How many of those jelly bellies did you have?" He sat there for a moment, totally stumped, and look up at me with a slightly confused face.

"I have no idea. A lot. Yeah, that sounds right." I shook my head and walked back to John who was just getting his gingerbread latte.

"I'll have a hot chocolate and an eggnog latte and both Grande size," I told Tadashi but in the back of my head I was listing all the bad things that would happen with a hyper George Harrison. Sadly, the list was getting pretty long and scary.

John all the while grew more excitable and antsy as he continued to sip his latte. I think at some point he was muttering something about a walruses.

He walked back over to me after telling everyone: "I am here, as you are here, as you are me!" He then went into a fit of laughter. "And we are all together!"

John then looked in my direction and gasped as if he'd seen a ghost.

"You're the walrus," he gasped, with his eyes as wide as humanly possible.

"John, what are you talking about?" I looked behind me and saw a painting of some really random colors. But they didn't look anything like a walrus.

"You," he emphasized greatly. "Are the walrus." Tadashi came over and gave me a pointed look to John, who had the same look when he said I was the walrus.

He pointed to Tadashi and gave him a pretty scary grin.

"And you're the eggman," John said simply and went over to talk about that weird stuff with Ringo and George.

"What was that," Tadashi asked with a slight frown.

"I don't know...but you caused it."

"What?" I picked up the two drinks and looked over at John who was bouncing around a noticeably sluggish George.

"You gave him the drink that made him go on the random walrus talk."

"Walrus talk? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think I'd remember someone calling me a walrus."

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><p><strong>AN: **O.O I can not explain why I brought up "I Am The Walrus" (which I do not own). Its just one of those things I can't explain. By the way...Ringo's here! Are you happy? Yeah, he'll actually talk in the next chapter so don't worry Ringo fans! *hides from Omgringo* They'll talk more even after Christmas so I don't know if I'll change the title...because I've grown fond of it. Anyways, Flipp and I have found out in recent studies that people who review lots of times happen to have a healthier day and a happier life and a more successful year. And yet people are trying to debunk it! Try to prove our studies right by reviewing! By the way, there's this great Beatles forum called **Beatlemaniacs United **(No relation to Manchester United) and we are in need of a George fan. But if you're not a George fan, that's cool too. Join one, join all! XD

Sending all my love,

Macca's Little Teddy Bear


	3. Can We Please Come Over For Christmas?

**A/N: **Thankfully I got this in right before Christmas. Just saying, I was kind of scared I wouldn't. But I'm happy now. Speaking of Christmas, I don't know any of my presents but I think I might have the Beatles underneath my tree tomorrow! Fingers crossed guys! But for now I don't owned them so that pretty much stinks...By the way, I want to give a big Christmas thanks to omgringo, The Beatles Babydoll22, Doctor Lennon 007, and Mysterious Guest (You need to get an account, you loveable George fan)! I was so happy to see your reviews that I basically squealed like I do when I hear John sing Mr. Moonlight. And that's really something. So what are you still doing here? Read my half baked chapter now! XD

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><p>"So you're Paul, right," Ringo asked as he shook my hand after I gave George the drink he ordered and stopped John from chewing on his fingers as a study. Do not ask.<p>

"Yeah. And you're Ringo right," he nodded and poked George who flicked Ringo's hand away like it was a fly. All Ringo needed to do was eat George's sandwich and he would instantly be on George's list.

"Don't poke me," George muttered and took a sip of his eggnog, giving him a little bit of a milky mustache. "I need my eggnog before I can talk to you again." I was about to ask what George meant but John snapped his fingers and bobbed his head happily.

"Sitting on a cornflake…waiting for the van to come," John giggled and went off to sip his latte, which I took from him the second he got it away from his lips.

"But it's mine," he whined like a child and frowned when I wouldn't give it to him, putting his head on the table and fake crying as soon as his forehead touched the table.

"Does he always act like this," I asked Ringo who gives John another glance and nods his head vigorously.

"Yeah, well, when he's hyper and all. But John whispering about walruses is new. It's usually just stuff that's hard to wrap your head around and get to understand, not stuff that makes you think he's insane."

"I'm not insane," John groaned, rubbing his eyes. "I'm merely so wonderful and talented no one can understand it or chart it on a scale. I've told you about a million times, Ringo." He then turned in my direction and gave me a bit of an upset look and the wobbly lip. Sadly, I have no defense against that for of guilt. "And thanks for caring about me, Macca. I was here crying my eyes out and you did nothing. I'm hurt!" He then clutched his heart dramatically, gasping for air.

"So you've sobered up from all that candy now, have you," Ringo asked as he ate one of the surprisingly many sandwiches Starbucks has. John snickered and took out a little notebook and a little pen.

"Never! I just don't have as many ideas right now. I need to get those more—"

"No," me and Ringo shouted and I was feeling more and more happy I took it away.

"Just jot down whatever ideas you got from your crazy sugar ideas," Ringo joked lightly. John snorted and quickly started to write down just about everything he said, scratching out randomly sometimes.

"But my teacher hates me, even that really good one _Please Please Me! _It was a classic in the making and he gave it a C because it apparently had vulgar messages throughout the poem. What a liar!_" _

"It does sound like it would have something dirty in it," George said as he continued to sip at the eggnog, his mustache getting thicker each time.

"This is exactly what I'm mad at. Why do people go off and start thinking for themselves and bring other stuff into it! Ugh, I hate it when people think for themselves," John vented and took his latte back, sticking out his tongue out at me too.

"So what is it about," George asked as he tried to take John's scone but John took his scone out of George's and shoved it in his mouth quickly. After swallowing it, he simply patted George's head until George stopped whimpering like a dog.

"It's about something dirty. Simple as that. But I hate that people over think it. That's why I'm happy about this new one. If you over think it, you'll go half crazy. So that'll teach my teacher something," John said proudly.

"Or you'll get an F this time," Ringo simply said as he polished off his sandwich. I snickered a little, with John simply grinning and laughed wildly when he looked at George.

"What? Is there something on my face," George asked innocently. John nearly fell out of his chair and pointed at his face.

"You've got a mustache now," he said through gasps of air and then pointed at me.

"You've got one too Paul! But yours is kind of weak…" Ringo snagged John's latte and took a quick sip of it.

"Ha! Now we've all got mustaches," Ringo said proudly and took out his phone. "Now gather all around so we can get pictures."

"Wait, I have a mustache too? Is it a manly mustache?" Ringo laughed at John's question and nodded.

"Yeah, it's all around your mouth and looks like a beard. You could be some sort of hippie even."

"I'd be the manliest hippy though," John said with utter proudness and got a very stoic look on his face, puffing out his chest in pride.

"Alright, you've got a very manly beard. Can we just take the picture now? My lips are starting to get all tingly," George whispered and nearly wiped it all away before Ringo had the smarts to pull us all close enough to get a good picture.

"So what should we call it," John asked as he looked at the picture, moving away from Ringo as the latter continued to try to get rid of the drying drink mustache on his face. I looked around the room and my eyes settles on the outside. There was nothing good there to base it off of…but maybe...

"Sergeant Pepper," I said simply and everyone looked over at me.

"What? I think it'd be alright," I added as I continued to feel the stares. John looked at the picture one last time and handed the phone over to Ringo.

"Yeah, let's go with Sergeant Pepper….but it could be longer," John agreed and picked up the pepper shaker that was sitting at our table.

"What do you mean longer?"

"It just feels like Sergeant Pepper needs something—Lucy in the Sky! That's it!" And John went back to writing in his little notebook. George laughed into his cup of eggnog and nearly got back the mustache he just got rid of.

"So what are you and George doing for Christmas, Paul," Ringo asked me and it kind of caught me by surprise. There wasn't much to do, just open presents and ask Dot if she could make something great like she usually does so the whole building wouldn't burn down and Brian, our landlord, won't kill us.

"Not much really. We're just trying not to burn the house down and get some presents under the tree."

"Santa will do that last part though, because he's _real_," George yelled and walked away to throw away the empty cup. And possibly sulk, but I can never know.

"Oh, I have an idea," John blurted out and stuffed his pen into his pocket. "We should all come over to your place and have a big Christmas and everything!"

Ringo noticeably perked up and nodded enthusiastically, basically acting like George whenever I bring up an idea.

"C'mon guys, its so soon and—"

"Please Macca! Please? We'll be nice and everything! We'll be like silent, little mice and only eat cheese if we have to!"

"What about the—"

"But what about George? I'm sure…okay I can't be sure about John, but I'll try to make sure to have fun with him too. Why not?"

"Well there's lots of—"

"Then it's settled," John shouted out with glee and ran over to George to bring him back over to the table. "We'll be coming over to your place for Christmas!"

George brightened a whole lot more than he was before and started to tug on my arm vigorously.

"Let's get ready then! C'mon Paulie, let's go!"

. . . . . . . . .

"Do you want a ham or turkey?"

"Why would we get a ham, Paul? What's so special about ham?"

"What's so special about turkey? It's only a giant bird that people eat on Thanksgiving."

"But it's the only bird that people eat on Thanksgiving! So it is special." I groaned irritably and looked along the walls again to see if there would be something we could agree on.

"Pot roast then? That doesn't sound too bad…" George made a face and looked away.

"I'd rather have the ham than that."

"The ham it is then," I ended quickly and threw the big ham into the cart. "Now we'll need other stuff. What do you think?"

"Umm, veggies. And pie! Is Dot making some stuff?" I nodded and he jumped up and down wildly.

"Yeah, but I'll have to remind her not to get too many sweets because you're around."

"And she'll need to get eggnog too! Remember that."

We stayed in the store for what felt like hours until the cart got full of everything George thought we should get. Apparently hot chocolate, peppermints and marshmallows had to be very high on the list, before the ham even, because they were supposedly something you couldn't leave behind when it came to Christmas.

"This will be awesome! Snow will be everywhere and presents will be around too," George beamed and stuffed more things into the cart, right when he sneezed.

"Hey, you can't get sick today of all times, Georgie. Or else Santa'll be very upset."

"No way," he sneezed again. "I'm George Harrison. Nothing can stop me from having an awesome Christmas!"

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><p><strong>AN: **I'll honestly try not to bring up Beatles songs in every chapter but I can never promise with stuff like that. XD Now, you all know Santa has to bring toys to the world but did you also know that along with the Christmas belief, he also uses reviews to get the sleigh up and running? Well if you didn't, now you know! So help Santa by reviewing!

Sending all my love,

Macca's Little Teddy Bear


	4. We Wish You A Merry Christmas!

**A/N: **Yeah, I should have put this up yesterday but I was to busy having fun with Paul and Ringo and John and George! Yup, I got them as Christmas presents! The albums that is...not the people. Really, who do you think I am? So, I obviously don't own the Beatles. Simple as that. Anyways...we've got a sick Georgie and a not so grumpy Brian!...I don't know whether I should be pleased or upset with myself. I'll do both. Big after Christmas thanks to omgringo, Mysterious Guest, and Doctor Lennon 007 for reviewing. I laughed like an idiot when I saw your reviews and it made me happy. 8) Now go to the Christmas chapter!

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><p>"Paul, next Christmas, can you call me at least two days in advance before you go off and do something crazy like this," Dot shouted from in the kitchen. I nodded and nearly slapped myself in the head because I knew she couldn't see me from here and continued to put up the nutcrackers along with giving George another thick blanket.<p>

"Sorry, it was kind of forced on me last minute," I answered back. The poor kid's forehead was as hot as a heater but he continued to say that he was freezing.

"I really doubt that McCartney." I held back a laugh and went into the kitchen to get the medicine for George. Also to steal a tangerine from Dot but the smack on the head was well worth the trouble for it.

"Do you think you'll be up to the party tonight, Georgie," I asked him as I handed him the cough stuff he needed. He noticeably paled but took it with shaky hands.

"Not really but I'll still get presents, right," he asked with a big amount of hope. I snickered and wiped away the sweat gathering at the fringe of his hair.

"Yeah, of course. I mean, unless Santa doesn't like sick kids. Then you better get to work with that medicine." George's eyes got wide like plates and he picked up the little cup and gulped it down in a second only to stick his tongue out in utter disgust.

"Why can't we get better tasting cough medicine?"

"Because there's no such thing. Does your throat feel any better?" He shook his head, sneezing all the while and I had to duck in cover as the germs went around.

"Thanks for trying to get me sick," I muttered and got out of my not so discreet hiding spot behind the couch.

"No problem. Then you'd be stuck here under dozens of blankets with me," George groaned and hid in the blankets to get some warmth.

I walked into the kitchen again and gave Dot a hug. She pushed me away but I pouted and gave her a hug again and tickled her too.

"Hey! I'm still mad at you, and you should know that!" I held my hands up in shock and looked around.

"What did I do? I don't remember any—"

"That tangerine was supposed to go to the ham, Paul."

"How? What was—"

"You're not allowed to ask anymore. I'm still mad at you." And she turned her back on me to work once again on the food, which made me bored since George was probably one step away to a day of sleep.

"Oh, I forgot to say. Brian called up to see what two other people were doing at the door of the apartment building asking for you." I stopped in my tracks and turned around. Hopefully John didn't get bored and try climbing the building like Spiderman or something weirder.

"What time did he call," I asked quickly. She tapped her foot for a while in thought and I had to applaud her for getting back at me. Later though, but at the moment we were kind of running on borrowed time before the crazy things happened.

"Not too long ago. Maybe around the time you were talking to George I think."

"Alright, thanks for everything Dot," I told her, putting a little kiss on her cheek and went back into the living room to get George.

"Why do I have to come," he asked groggily. I switched from one foot to another in impatience and looked at the time.

"Because Brian wouldn't say no to you. He likes you more. Plus, you're sick. No one would say no to a poor little sick kid."

"It's not like I'm an orphan," George joked and finally got up but still took a quilt with him that I didn't remember giving him.

"Yeah, but he'd have no reason to say no now." So we went out of our apartment and through the warm hallways to get down to the first floor where Brian lived. I knocked on the door a few times and waited as George continued to shiver. Finally it opened and Brian stepped out with a big smile.

"Merry Christmas, boys," he said warmly and we both smiled, though George sniffled a bit.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Brian. About the two people outside, I—"

"Oh, it's taken care of." I probably looked freaked out because he laughed a little and put a hand on my shoulder. "They should be somewhere around here."

"Alright. How'd you know they actually knew me?" He laughed at that and George managed a confused look.

"What's so funny, Brian," he rasped out. It only made Brian laugh a bit more.

"When one of them said that when he first met Paul, his nose was in his studies. Like you usually do."

"Hey, I don't study all the time! I can be laid back," I argued irritably.

"I highly doubt that. Don't you, John," I heard a familiar voice say.

"I agree with that. Just doesn't sound like something he would do," another familiar voice said. The two came out from behind one of the plants behind us and smiled wildly. Ringo tipped his hat with a wink and John sprang straight at me and tackled me to the ground.

"Merry Christmas, Macca," John shouted in my ear and hugged me tight as I was sprawled on the ground thanks to him. I tried to push him off but he continued to tighten his grip until I was pinned to the ground by an overexcited child-like guy.

"Can you please get up," I ask lamely. He frowned and rolled his eyes.

"You're supposed to say 'Merry Christmas to you too'!"

"Okay, fine. Merry Christmas to you too, John," I tell him and try to push him off one last time. He merely put his glasses on my face and gets up.

"That's all I wanted. C'mon let's go!" He helped me up and everything but I still felt like I was going to fall down or crash into something, which made him help me out till we got back to my apartment instead of just taking off the blinding things.

"How did George get sick," Ringo asked quietly as he almost literally carried George through the halls.

"I don't know. It might be the fact that he barely went out of the apartment," I told him plainly and tried looking at my own hands, which looked like bloated sausages that were way too close to my face.

"How's your eyesight, John?"

"Horrible and nearsighted! Why do you ask?"

"Uhh...no reason...no reason at all."

By the time we got back to Dot, George was asleep in Ringo's arms and I had a growing headache from the glasses while John was jumping up and down with excitement. I got my keys out of my pocket but when I tried to put it into the hole, I kept missing easily.

"Oh come on Paulie, you had it the last time," John encouraged with fits of laughter. I shoved the key in his direction and made him do it, which he did surprisingly well. I walked straight into the door, but at least I got inside.

"Hey, Dot! I'm back with a couple of friends!" I heard something drop in the kitchen after I said that and I awaited the fight that might happen. Instead, Dot walked over and laughed wildly at us all.

"Aww, Paul, you leave for only five minutes and you already need glasses. And you got George all tired too." She walked over in Ringo's direction, said a quick thank you to him and brought George back over to the couch.

"By the way," Dot said nicely. "I never got your names."

"I'm John," John said with a smile. "And this is Ringo, my faithful assistant."

"I'm not your assistant!"

"Very true...very true...you are my humble apprentice. How could I forget!"

"I'm not your apprentice either!" Dot's face grew red with mirth and she waved a quick good bye to go back into the kitchen.

"Well now we wait for our darling girls," John told Ringo as he took Ringo's hat.

"Wait, you never said you were going to bring other people," I smirked but on the inside I was wondering if Dot had enough food for a few more, even if she had extra because of George.

"Well you have your girlfriend, why can't we have ours," John poked and put on Ringo's Santa hat.

Not too soon after George finally woke up, John and Ringo's girls came up to join the party.

"Sorry we came so late, we had to get presents for little George," one of the two said with a big smile as they held big bags filled to their tops with stuff. Instantly, George brightened up and jumped away from Ringo's hold to see what they had.

"Cool! There's a giant teddy in here! Thanks Cynthia and Maureen," George shouted with a very George Harrison special smile and hugged them both. This wasn't going to be a bad Christmas at all.

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><p><strong>AN: **Hello! Did you like it? Do you want more on their Christmas? Hmm...if I get enough people askin' for it, I'll put down a nice one-shot about it and tell all ye people for it. So...uh, what else was I supposed to say? Oh yeah! I added all the Beatles girlfriends (the earliest ones that I remember as possible) because it'll be a huge help to the story as we go. Don't believe me? Continue to read and review guys! Also, I've got a poll for you guys to answer on my profile. Can you do that for me? Thanks!

Sending all my love,

Macca's Little Teddy Bear


	5. Little Georgie-Lou Who

**A/N: **Remember children, people are things you can't buy. Unlike love. In that case, you can usually always buy love. Enough said. So I don't own the Beatles. Because they're people. Believe it or not. Anyways...this was a real hard chapter in the making. So is the next one. Sorry guys! I was sick-ish while making this and the first draft was utter rubbish. Really. After I send out the next chapter soon, if you want, I'll send you the first draft and show you how awful it was. It makes me remember why people tell you not to go on a laptop when your sick. Anyways, New Year thanks to Omgringo and the Mysterious Guest (Now known as ThisBirdHasFlownToRhye!) for reviewing! Special thanks to Doctor Lennon 007 for beta-ing this chapter as well as the next! Give her a great round of applause for helping me out with it, she did a wonderful job. Now look at the chapter!

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><p>Paul, John and Ringo were gathered around the round, wooden table off to the left in Paul's flat, and eating Dot's cookies with gusto. Every once in a while, Paul or Ringo would try to get George to eat one but he continued to bury himself deeper in his rather large mound of blankets on the couch.<p>

Before they managed to finish all the cookies, the door opened with Cynthia and Maureen coming in cheerfully, bags of food as well as toys in hand.

"Sorry we came in late, we had to get presents for little George," Cynthia apologized as she tried to find the bag that held the toys.

George's head popped out of the blankets and he quickly walked to the two girls, getting out of Ringo's hold as the elder tried to get him to eat a cookie. He quickly brightened up and hugged them both as he peered into the bag.

"Cool! There's a giant teddy here! Thanks Cynthia and Maureen!" George shouted in his raspy voice and gave him one of his very special smiles.

"Oh, it's no problem at all, George!" Maureen smiled. She gave George a hug as she handed him the rather lightweight bags she was holding; however, seeing him teeter under even that slight weight, she quickly took them back.

"Uhh, sorry," replied George quietly. "Can I just take the teddy bear for now?" He took the teddy with a faint smile, giving Maureen and Cynthia one last hug before hiding under the blankets on the couch again.

Ringo stuffed one last cookie into his mouth, then ran over to give his girlfriend a slightly belated hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Mo," he said with a slight smile, but she didn't respond as she craned her neck to look into the kitchen.

"Do you think someone's in there? I hear . . . noises and such coming from that room. Like pots and pans clanging," she murmured to Cynthia after a large rattle came from the kitchen.

"Yeah, John! Is anyone in there?" Cynthia asked John who was hyper as usual.

John's head popped up from the giant cup of hot chocolate he was clutching, and he nodded vigorously, causing some of the drink to splash onto the most random parts of his face. He grinned excitedly as he thought of it and took another drink; only getting more of the hot beverage on his face.

"Yup, Dot's making ham . . . isn't she, Paul?" John turned to his friend for confirmation.

Paul searched for John through John's extremely thick glasses that were sitting on the end of Paul's nose. The teaching student blinked owlishly and looked not at John, but at a framed picture on the wall of Marilyn Monroe instead.

"She is," replied Paul, still looking at the picture of Marilyn. "I hope she's not mad about the tangerine still," he added with a snicker.

"You should be in the kitchen, helping her. She's not just around to cook, you know," Maureen scolded.

Paul blinked. "Sorry, Maureen. I—"

"Not another word, Paul," she cut in with a motherly tone.

Ringo snickered as Paul played along with Maureen's attitude and bowed his head like a kid.

"Go in there and help her out," Maureen added as she pointed in the direction of the continuing clatter. Paul dragged his feet along, but not without failing to contain his laughter, even as he bumped into the wall.

"Wow, you really took care of Paul well, Mo," John joked as he got up and pulled Cynthia to one of the chairs in the living room.

Maureen blushed and hid in Ringo's embrace.

George groaned loudly after the hug, making them jump. George glared weakly at them over the head of his teddy bear, causing a few snickers only to make George's glare stronger.

"Can you guys please stop with all the icky romance stuff? Me and Danny are trying to sleep . . . unless you guys want to get an angry sick person for Christmas," George grumbled and hugged the teddy bear tightly.

"Your teddy bear is named Danny?" John inquired with a mischievous grin.

George shot John a death glare. "Of course he is! So stop being mushy and junk."

"Looks like we'll have to be extra cuddly and mushy then," Ringo mused happily. He nuzzled his large nose against Maureen's hair to George's irritation.

Paul stumbled into the room, Dot helping him the whole way. She giggled and smiled widely along the way.

"Whoever put these glasses on his face is a genius. He's finally stopped being so boring!" enthused Dot.

John tipped his Santa hat in her direction and she curtsied, only to have Paul lose his balance. He nearly tripped over his own feet when she let go and only gained it again when George grabbed his arm at the last minute.

"I'm not boring! Why do people keep saying that?" Paul asked no one in particular as he looked at the small coffee table, which was in the middle of the group.

"Yeah, you do, Paulie . . . it's in your nature," George told him. The high school student sat up, apparently realizing that getting a bit of sleep was going to be impossible with so many people talking at the same time.

"Not true, I can be fun anytime I want," Paul argued. He didn't need to take off John's glasses to tell that everyone disagreed with him.

"You guys are the boring ones around here," he mumbled in defeat. He tried to scoop a cookie out of the bowl on the table, but missed horribly. Instead, he dipped his hand into his cup of cocoa. He instantly jumped up and ran out of the room. As he was muttering about his misfortunes, everyone else laughed wildly.

"Paul! Did you burn your hand too badly?" John called over to the teaching student who was hiding in the bathroom.

"What do you think?" Paul shouted back.

John gasped and feigned shock for a moment as he ran to the closed door.

"So you need to go to the hospital?" John asked. He had his ear very close to the door to hear the response.

"No! Just leave me alone for a moment. . ."

John trudged back to his seat with Cynthia and waited for Paul to come back. It happened to take a rather long time.

"Let me show you how laid-back I can be then," Paul murmured, bringing up the topic again when he came back into the room. Only this time there was a towel wrapped around his hand.

"Okay, put your hand back into the cup of cocoa," John requested quickly.

Ringo clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

"No," Paul pouted and cradled his hand to his chest as if to protect it to John, "I'd . . . um . . . I would go off to a club, even!"

John gasped in mock horror and covered Cynthia's ears. George looked confusedly at John, who stuck his tongue out at George. George returned the gesture, and soon their faces were both a deep purple shade of purple.

"There are women around, McCartney. You should watch your tongue," John stage-whispered mockingly.

"You didn't watch yours just a few seconds ago," Paul noted.

"Watch it," John told him with a look similar to Aunt Mimi's stern one.

"Fine. Fine, I'm sorry. Are you happy now, sir?" Paul asked him to get rid of John's strict-looking face.

John raised an eyebrow, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He then looked to Cynthia for approval on whether or not to say he was happy.

She nodded, giggling, and playfully shoved John away from her side.

"Yes, I'm very happy now. Thanks for asking," John deadpanned. He shoved Cynthia in the same playful manner she had done to him and walked over to where George was sitting.

George hid behind Danny the teddy, but peeked over the stuffed animal's shoulder to see what John would do next. So far, John was just staring at his nails with a bored look.

"Can we watch a movie now?" George asked feebly. "John's kind of scaring me."

Silence fell over the room for a second before everyone except John and George burst out laughing. John had a hurt look on his face. Wide eyes, trembling lip, utter disbelief and all.

"I did nothing, it was Danny here that's scaring people. He's not blinking!" retorted John.

. . . . . . . . .

_How the Grinch Stole_ _Christmas_ ended up being the group's movie choice. So at every chance they got, John and George acted out everything. They even got Ringo and Paul to join in at times.

"Macca, do you have a Santa suit around?" John asked out loud. He threw jackets and scarfs out of the closet near the living room into a giant mess on the floor behind him to find said costume.

"What do you mean?" Paul asked in a baffled way as he gave George a sideways glance. Lucky for them both, George was too busy looking at the TV to see if the scene was close to ending.

Paul walked over to where John was, swiftly getting out the Santa suit John was looking for and shoved it in John's direction.

"Don't say where you got it," Paul whispered. "Just say you . . . brought it along."

John gave him a bored look for an answer, walking off to put on the red suit.

After the wait for the little costume change, they went straight into the scene the movie was at. George was the small Cindy-Lou Who, watching as John took the stockings Paul hung earlier.

"Santy Claus, why are you taking our stockings? Why?" George asked John the Grinch. He asked it in such a soft, child-like voice that all the girls moved closer to George. Their faces showed they obviously wanted to give the young kid a big hug.

"Because as you can see, there are threads coming lose on them. I'll just take these to my workshop and fix them," John said sweetly. Confusion quickly swept between the girls. It was getting a bit harder to decide who was giving a good performance.

"And his fib fooled the child," Paul narrated in a booming voice. "Then he patted his head, got her drink, and sent her to bed."

John then pushed George into the hands of the patient women. A gleam of mischief came into his eyes as he let Ringo the dog hold all the taken things, allowing him to continue with deed.

But as John got very close to taking all the decorations down—also making Dot nearly tear her hair out in the process—Ringo and George started to sing. They were on their knees, singing in high-pitched voices the same nonsensical song that was sung in the movie. John then set down the decorations in a rush and held up a hand to his ear to hear the two sing.

"What happened then?" Paul asked in his booming narrating voice. "In Whoville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!"

John, with a heartwarming smile, ran over and joined the two in the repetitive song. George even brought Danny the teddy bear over to fill in for Paul.

"And he, he himself, the Grinch carved the ham!" Paul ended, narrating voice and all. He carried in the giant ham to the dining table and everyone hurried over to finally eat the main course.

"We should have gotten a roast beef. It goes with the story," noticed George as he watched John carved the ham.

"But you said that you didn't want the roast beef!" Paul shouted from the kitchen as he helped Dot get out more of the food.

"That was before this happened. Now I want roast beef!" George called back.

Paul walked out of the kitchen and glared at George with a small smile coming in.

"No. It's too late for that. Just go for the marshmallows. We go those just in time for you," Paul said softly. He gave a wink and rushed back into the kitchen.

. . . . . . . . .

By the time most of the food was finished, George had somehow fallen asleep, and all the girls started to mollycoddle him in his sleep. How they did it, the world may never know. This then left the other three boys to be the wild people they were.

"Y'know," John said with an impish smile as he finished off his third cup of hot chocolate. "We really should go to a club or something."

He reached for a fourth snowman-decorated mug, but Paul took it out of his reach. Paul then downed it in one gulp quickly so he couldn't try to get it back.

"I thought you said that we shouldn't do that," Ringo remembered.

"That was only so I seemed like a good gentlemen. Unlike Macca here that is," John teased as Paul started to bounce up and down in his chair with a wild grin the more he drank the hot chocolate.

"I'm sure Mo and Cyn saw right through it though," Ringo told him as he pushed Paul away when the latter tried to start a tickle fight.

"Yeah…so we'll all have to be on our best behavior!" John cautioned lightheartedly.

Paul frowned and picked up a gingerbread cookie that was near them.

"I want to get a dog sometime soon . . . but Dot's allergic," Paul said out of the blue. A small smile came to his face as he thought about it.

John's nose crinkled, and he shook his head. The serious face he had before came back as he took his glasses thick glasses from Paul and put them on his face.

"You should get a cat then," John said simply.

"We've already got a cat though," Paul told John, saying it as if it were as plain as the nose on his face.

"And where is he…or she," Ringo asked unsurely and looked around the apartment in case he'd somehow missed an animal.

"He's curled up on the couch under the blankets, snoring," replied Paul, pointing at George.

John shook his head in mock disappointment. A faint smirk came onto his face and the longer he thought about it, the bigger the smirk got.

"Great, now I can't look at my cat the same way anymore. All I'll see is George's head. Thanks a lot, Paul," John said sarcastically.

"No problem, John!" replied Paul brightly.

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><p><strong>AN: **Next chapter will come soon...Just be ready for a rather New Year's like chapter. Also, the teddy was named Danny for a lose reference to Dhani Harrison. As in, I saw they both started with the letter D and ran with it. I'm just weird like that. Plus, you now see why George still believes in Santa. Bad Paul...Now what are you still doing? I've got another chapter to make! _You _on the other hand can review. ;)

Sending all my love,

Macca's Little Teddy Bear


	6. New Year's Mystery

**A/N: **I am a human being, and so are you. We can't be bought, its a part of the Constitution and is just a known fact. Believe it or not, the Beatles are human beings too. So they can't bought. Its that simple! So here's the New Year's chapter as its still considered the New Year's! Big thanks to ThisBirdHasFlownToRhye for reviewing and Doctor Lennon 007 for beta-ing this chapter. Again, if you want to see the rough draft, just tell me. Go ahead and read this nugget of pure lateness.

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><p>Paul smiled widely at a child's art piece. Front and center was a tall stick figure with a large house behind him and green smoke coming out of it. Speaking of green, that was the only color on the page. But the child drawing it, Mason, seemed to love it that way.<p>

Surrounding them were other little kids that came to the small event at 4 pm. They weren't really surrounding them though, most of them were running around. The kids weren't quiet either. They were either shouting at the top of their lungs, throwing things around, smashing things into other things, or Paul's 'favorite', singing on end the same verse with no signs of stopping.

_I wish they'd all shut up! _Paul thought angrily. He never thought adorable kids like these could be so. . .infuriating!

He couldn't blame his college for not having a big enough room but he could easily blame the school for bringing more than enough kids. Thank goodness he was paired up with Mason, a nice child who hadn't gotten up for anything other than crayons and paper.

"That's a great drawing, Mason!" Paul beamed, and the child looked at the paper with a smile showing that he was missing one of his front teeth.

"Can I ask who it is?" Paul asked as he looked at the green covered page a bit more closely. Mason nodded and gave another big smile.

"It's you of course, Mr. McCartney," Mason told Paul as he started to add more green to the hair.

"So what grade are you in again?" inquired Paul, shifting his weight from his right leg to his left.

"I'm in 1st grade! Do you want to sit down?" asked Mason, bouncing up and down in place.

Paul nodded and sat on the stool closest to Mason. It creaked ominously, and he tried to distribute his weight as evenly as possible, as it was made for a little kid.

"You seem to be really good at art for a little—uh, I mean first grader," Paul noted.

Suddenly, Paul's phone buzzed in his pocket, making him jump. The stool protested loudly, but Mason didn't seem to notice. Instead, he started to talk quickly:

"Thank you, Mr. McCartney! My mommy says that I'm really good too so she says that's why Santa got me a big box of Crayons and other color stuff!"

"That sounds wonderful, Mason! Do you like all of the crayons you got?"

Mason nodded enthusiastically and went back to his drawing, letting Paul check who texted him. Yes, it was New Year's Eve, but he wanted to get the hands-on training, so he must have told everyone that they couldn't call or text… possibly.

John: Are you ready to have fun tonight?

Paul looked at his phone with confusion and started to type a response.

Me: What fun?

John: Going to the pub of course!

Me: I thought you were joking….

John: Well I wasn't! So, I'm at my school right now getting some supplies…just come by and I'll take you to the place. Ringo's already on his way. And George is at his parents, right?

Me: Yeah…how did you know that?

John: You told me while you were hyper….you're very chatty when you're hyper you know. So are you coming?

Me: Alright, just text me your school's address. I'll be there when I'm done with what I'm doing.

Paul stuffed his phone back into his pocket and opened his mouth to continue talking to Mason. Instead, the bell rang, ending the short class. Mason continued to color the page, not noticing the other children leaving.

"Mason, the class is over. I'm sure you'll have coloring time at home," a professor said softly as he came over to the table the two were at. Mason looked up instantly at the professor, his bottom lip jutting out along with his eyes getting rounder. To add onto the scene, Mason quickly grabbed Paul's leg, having a surprisingly strong grip.

"But I had fun with Mr. McCartney! Can I stay longer?" the little boy asked. The professor raised an impressed brow as he scribbled down notes. After writing them down, he then finally talked to the child that was cutting off blood circulation in Paul's leg.

"I'm sorry, time is up right now. Your mom will be waiting for you, although there is a good chance you will meet Mr. McCartney at your school when this starts up again."

"What?" Paul and Mason asked in unison. Mason finally lost his tight grip so Paul could grasp his hand and not let the younger one squeeze his leg again.

"This was a test to see whether you could properly connect and teach a child something, though I suggest you don't tell your classmates. That goes for both of you. Have a happy New Year," the professor said. The man quickly walked to the others talking at a table across the room.

"I can't wait to see you again, Mr. McCartney," Mason squealed, and he started to run out of the door, with Paul not too far behind to stop him.

"Neither can I! Do you see your mom anywhere yet?" The young child looked around at the many cars parked in the parking lot.

"Yeah! The red car right there. It has a smiley face sticker on it." Mason then pointed to it and led Paul all the way there. Paul also made sure to watch for cars coming in and out of the lot. Mason's random burst of energy were also something to watch out for.

"Thank you. See you next time!" Mason said as he got into his mom's car and waved, along with his mother who gave Paul a pretty lengthy thanks.

The second the car left the lot, Paul went to his car and turned on his phone to see the directions. It was actually not too far from his school; not even a mile away.

He drove straight to the building, although having to pull up a GPS when he nearly got lost. Nonetheless, he got to the large building; walking right into it with a spring in his step from earlier that day.

He stopped in his tracks. He finally realized that he had no idea which room John was in, making the short trip a bit longer and much harder.

So of course Paul looked around.

He went into the room closet to him, finding a rather boring computer lecture. Everyone turned to look at Paul with quizzical faces, making the one at question back away awkwardly.

"And what are you doing here?" the man at the podium asked with a raised brow.

"I...um...just looking for someone!" Paul nervously answered. He rushed out of the room, slamming the door with a _bang _behind him.

"I'm never taking a computer class," he muttered with a frown. He went over to the next door, which was across the hall.

It was filled with people wearing weird hats. They were in rather uncomfortable looking poses with someone taking pictures of the scene at every angle.

"Hello!" The person taking pictures chirped happily. Everyone looked at Paul's direction, taking a moment of relaxation to wave at him.

"Goodbye!" Paul said with the same amount of enthusiasm. He shut the door in a calmer manner than before, thinking about what happened.

"Not the weirdest thing I've seen in my life," Paul told himself with slight indecisiveness.

He walked to yet another door and swung it open with growing irritation.

"Oh, hello! Are you our other nude model?" someone from behind a canvas asked. Paul was going to ask what that person meant by that when he looked at the center of the circle of canvases. A lady was sitting on a stool, not wearing a single article of clothing and not at all bothered by the people around her. She seemed relaxed about it, too relaxed for Paul's taste.

He didn't answer but ran out of the room. He slammed the door with such strength it was a wonder it didn't break.

"I did not just see that. I did not just see that," Paul continuously murmured to himself in a dazed fashion.

The college student went into a room far down the hall he was in and simply locked himself in it. He continued to tell himself that he didn't see what he just saw until he gathered his wits.

When he did, he looked up and stared in wonder at the person in front of him.

John was sitting quietly in front of a canvas and adding great detail to what he was drawing. What surprised Paul was that he was quiet.

Paul gave the room another look and noticed it was empty, save for himself and John. He might as well say something.

"You never told me you could draw like this!" Paul gasped in amazement.

John jumped but calmly regained his cool by adding a bit to the canvas again.

"Well, there's this cool thing called knocking. . .why didn't you use it?" replied John snidely.

Paul shrugged and looked more closely at the canvas.

"Is that a man looking at a flying thing?" Paul asked John when he finally stopped drawing.

"No, it's a man looking at a four-legged thing. . .there's a difference. Now let's go! Ringo's probably getting started without us!" John then jumped up and dragged Paul out of the school. Somehow got to Paul's car without any help.

"Where's your car?" Paul asked as John was backing out with surprising smoothness.

"Ringo dropped me off so it's with him. He apparently doesn't trust me to drive," John sighed in mock sadness.

Paul laughed along with John and looked out the window to see the rather magnificent building. Seconds later, he was what felt like miles away from it.

"How are you driving this fast without getting pulled over?" Paul shouted as they made a very dangerous turn.

"I may know a couple of policemen," John replied offhandedly as they ran a red light. Paul looked down at his seat belt in fear. He hoped the car dealer was right when he said the safety rating was great.

"Are we almost there yet?" Paul asked after yet another car honked at them. John rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry Macca, just another couple turns."

"I agree with Ringo, you aren't to be trusted with a car."

"I am so! You're not injured, are you?"

"No, but I'm still scared that I will be!"

Another quick series of turns were made, John pulled into a restaurant called _The Lansdowne_, coming in rather smoothly. The instant the car stopped, Paul jumped out and swayed like a thin branch as he attempted to see if his car was horribly scratched.

"How did you not scratch it?" he mumbled in confusion. John simply smirked with pride and faced _The Lansdowne. _

"Me being wonderful, that's how. Now come on, there's only 3 hours 'til New Year's!" John then started to drag Paul into the well-lit building.

After a bit of waiting and talking to one of the hostesses, they finally got to the bar, greeted by a bored Ringo.

"I kind of thought you guys forgot about me," Ringo joked as Paul collapsed into the chair next to him.

"How could I?" Paul replied with a snicker. "I was having my life flash before my eyes so you'd be hard to forget."

Ringo's eyes widened. He shook his head while wagging his finger accusingly at Paul.

"That's why you shouldn't let John drive! You're basically asking for a death sentence," said Ringo.

John cleared his throat comically and pouted sadly.

"I'm still here you know. And since you haven't asked, I'll tell you that the car's in one piece!"

"Lucky…he practically destroyed my old car. So as a birthday present he got me a new one."

"No, my Aunt Mimi got you a new car…I just told her I needed a car, to lessen the anger," John cleared up and a waiter came over to take the order.

"Three orders of fish and chips along with the best the place has," Ringo and John told the man simultaneously. The waiter blinked for a moment before writing the order down, walking away in confusion.

"Wait, what do you mean by 'the best the place has'?" Paul asked as he looked at the restaurant's décor. It had a rather friendly feeling to it, with a little club band, people dancing and everything. There was also old boarding on the walls to give it an authentic pub look.

"Oh, don't be innocent! We'll definitely be feeling this tomorrow," John cackled, making what he said seem inevitable.

"Then I need to make a call…because I wouldn't let you drive again even with a lot of alcohol in me," Paul muttered. He walked little while away from his two friends to pull out his phone and call Brian.

"Hi Eppy," Paul called into the phone. A slight chuckle came through from the other end of the line.

"Hello Paul. Anything you need from me?"

It was Paul's turn to laugh and a woman with red hair not too far away heard. She gave a sly grin, getting up and slowly walking to Paul.

"Actually, yeah. Would you be able to pick me and some friends up later? I'll text you the address soon."

Paul over time noticed her. She was pretty but he knew she had something she wanted to do. So ignoring is what came to mind as he talked to Brian.

"I doubt that you would remember this conversation in an hour or two," Brian laughed. "I'll come over around midnight, is that okay?"

"It really is. Thanks for everything Eppy," Paul said gratefully. The redhead came closer and hugged Paul tightly.

"Don't do that," he muttered and pried the woman from his body.

"What was that Paul?" Brian asked.

She poked out her bottom lip, making it quiver like Mason's did earlier that day. But he couldn't compare the two since Mason's was genuine. This one was just a step in a many layered plan. One that Paul wasn't going to be part of.

"Nothing, Brian. I'll just text you the address now. Thanks again," The teaching student simply stated. He hung up, walking back to his friends and away from the mysterious lady.

"And here I thought Paul was a gentleman," John criticised mockingly.

Paul turned around and saw that the redhead was still looking at him. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was something about her. He just didn't know what.

"I am. The ladies can't resist my charm and wit, you know," Paul said with a wink.

"Okay, Paul's no longer a gentleman and John can still crack jokes. Can we just get this New Year started like our founding fathers wanted?" Ringo asked impatiently.

John nodded seriously, with an impish grin contradicting it.

"Ringo's right," John said with a new found wisdom. "Let's get this party started!"

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><p><strong>AN:** I'm sure you wanted it in 1st person POV now. Don't worry! The next chapter is exactly that! Don't worry. I'm rather happy with Mason, he's adorable so he'll be fun to have around when I bring him back up. Also, Georgie so far is in the lead on my poll! If you want your favourite Beatle to win...then go to my profile and do it! Review and stuff because it fills the void in my chest where my heart should be! Thanks!

Sending all my love,

Macca's Little Teddy Bear


	7. The Best Dream Ever

**A/N: **I'm not allowed to say I own the Beatles or the men in suits may come back. And I don't like those guys.

Anyways, I'm sorry for not being around and giving you guys chapters but I have this project at school that's due in a few weeks and I don't want to fail it...Anyways! This is kind of a filler but at the same time its not. It gets the ball rolling...but very slowly. Plus, that Boston weather is one heck of a storm isn't it? Well, I'll write about it. But I'll give more that snow. *mysterious laugh* Big thanks to ThisBirdHasFlownToRhye for giving me an idea and reviewing along with Doctor Lennon 007 reviewing and giving me some help. Chapter time!

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><p>I woke up, but I didn't open my eyes. Why, you ask? Because the sun for some reason decided to be too bright! So it didn't help my headache. And that didn't help the fact that I felt like showing whoever else in the room what I had to eat yesterday.<p>

I heard a groan somewhere near me with as much irritation as I felt. I thought that was a good enough reason to crack open an eye. It hurt much more than it should to get one eyelid open and another would just be torture.

"Close the blind-y windows thing," I mumbled to no one in particular.

Seconds later, the blinds _actually closed_. It was like they heard me! A bit of shuffling footsteps came after the blinds closed to my now overly sensitive ears.

"Paul? Are you awake yet?" someone asked in front of me. I winced at how loud he was.

"I wish I wasn't," I quietly said in response.

"Sorry, but it looks like you'll be stuck with this for a while."

"But Bri," I whined, closing my eye again. "My head hurts...and so does my stomach...and I'm tired."

"You shouldn't have been drinking so much then. When I came to the restaurant, you three were already tripping over your feet and laughing at every word someone said!" Brian whispered.

I took a moment to give a look of confusion. Then I slipped back into my irritated stupor.

"Why did you come over? How'd you know I was there?"

Brian sighed and I knew he was giving me one of those looks. As in he's both bothered and concerned. I wasn't too fond of the look.

"I told you that you wouldn't remember the call, not one bit. Now, I think you should stop resting on Ringo. I don't think he likes being a pillow," Brian teased as he swept away a stray hair from my face.

I tried swatting his hand away but he was like lightning compared to me. So giving up seemed much easier than trying again.

"But Ringo's a very comfy pillow. I don't wanna get up," I whispered, trying my childish tactic. Maybe I could prolong the inevitable headache which was getting up.

"Maybe Ringo doesn't want to be a pillow," the subject of the conversation interjected.

"But you would make a very good pillow. . ."

"Macca, are you seriously trying to hit on Ringo? You could do much better," John snorted but his voice sounded slower than the night before. I wouldn't blame him on that.

"And why would you say that?" Ringo asked and lightly propped me up on the other side of the couch.

I still held onto his arm, because he really did make a good pillow.

"Paul has these rather girly eyes so he could attract any guy. Emphasis on any guy," John said slowly. He smirked right after and I knew he only butted into the conversation for that joke.

"I told you already, I don't have girly eyes!" I yelled weakly.

Both Brian and Ringo burst out laughing and I gave them both the best glare I could give. It calm them down, just for a few seconds when they started laughing once again.

"When did you guys talk about this? I want to be in a talk like that!" Ringo shouted with far too much excitement for that topic.

"I'd like to know how it started," Brian chucked.

His amusement was making me scared of what John might say.

"Well it all began when I thought Paul was a girl. . ." John started.

In an instance, Brian and Ringo started to laugh all over again. I meekly hid my head in my hands, wishing I wasn't there.

To my luck-which I thankfully have a lot of-the door opened loudly. George walked through, looking like he just had the best dream ever.

"I'm back from my parent's house! And I feel like I've had the best dream ever!" George gushed with a smile.

It looks like I wasn't too far off.

"What happened, George?" Brian asked.

George looked over to Brian with a confused look. He tilted his head to the side for extra measure, along with arching an eyebrow.

"I thought you were supposed to be at that lawyer thing today. What happened?" George asked Brian. I was surprised when he shrugged his shoulders. Brian usually never shrugs his shoulders.

"Wait, he's a lawyer?" Ringo gasped.

"It doesn't matter right now!" John shouted heartily. "Tell your story already!"

"Okay, she's this pretty blonde girl who's supermodel good. Like, so good if she were in a movie, music would be playing in the background. Or people would stop whatever they're doing to look at her. _That good_. And her name is wonderful: Pattie Boyd," George ended with a happy sigh.

"Then she looked at me with this great big smile and her eyes looked like individual stars trapped in pretty sky blue orbs.

"Her walk practically radiated smarts and confidence along with the way she waved. It was like she knew me for years and wanted to have a chat," He murmured serenely. George started to sway in his happy trance with his smile getting bigger.

"Wait, how do you know her name if you just met her?" Brian asked.

"Because I heard Eric Clapton-my best friend-say her name!" George yelled, suddenly coming back down to Earth. His smile and swaying disappeared quickly. "And that's when everything came crashing down."

"What do you mean Georgie?" Ringo asked with a sudden frown.

"He kissed her, Ringo! Right in front of me! And then she kissed him back! It was like they didn't see anyone else around!" George whined sadly. He instantly clung to Brian, not letting go even though Brian futilely asked for him to.

"Well, it is considered rude not to kiss someone back in certain countries. Maybe she came from one of them," John mused simply.

George gave him a long glare, loosening his grip on Brian for only a second before tightening it again.

"You shouldn't have said that, John," Eppy told John over George's shoulder.

"Its true though, we can't mess with anyone's culture. I, for one, wouldn't want to mess with that part," John joked lightly. It only earned another glare from George.

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry. What's so special about Clapton anyways?" The art student asked.

George heaved a sigh and plopped onto the couch between me and Ringo.

"He's the quarterback on the football team. Everyone loves him," George answered with slight disgust.

"Yeah, but you're the best batter you school's got!" I reminded George before he got stuck in a rut.

"George is a slugger? Wow! Before the end of the day, Paul will tell me he went to the moon and met the president. Then locked Justin Bieber up," Ringo grumbled.

"But I'm only the best because I actually try when I play. Unlike most of my team who only try for the ice cream after. When Eric plays, he says it comes naturally, and that he doesn't know where he gets his skills. I know a liar when I see one. . .and he is one," George sneered.

He stormed into his room, with loud guitar strumming coming after the door slammed harshly.

"Well, is it safe to assume that those two aren't best friends anymore?" Ringo asked slowly.

I shook my head, kind of wishing I hadn't gotten him a semi-acoustic.

"Nah, George knows not to let a girl in the way of friendship," I said with a smile.

I only hoped I was right. George took things a bit too heart even with the most ridiculous things.

"That's right, Paulie! He knows the old saying, bros before h-" John started enthusiastically.

"John! Don't say that!" Brian yelped. He frowned at John with a slight scowl.

"But everyone knows it! It's a phrase that's kept friendship together since the beginning of time!" John retaliated quickly.

"I doubt that's true. Guys were too busy being eaten by dinosaurs or trying not to be eaten by them to care. Girls were not apart of the equation. They were kept together by food. So it'd be dudes before foods," Ringo explained in the middle of it all.

I should start warming a bag of popcorn, this might start to get somewhat exciting.

"Ringo, my faithful to a fault assistant. I get your confusion, but it's clearly my phrase that trumps all. It's just more widely known and more understood," John told Ringo happily.

"Yours is also more disgusting," Brian muttered as he looked at his watch for a moment.

"And I'm not your assistant!" Ringo added.

"Yes you are! Why else do you drive me everywhere?" John exclaimed.

"Because I don't want to die!" Ringo shouted back. "And I really like the car your Aunt Mimi gave me."

A sudden stop to the wild guitar playing came. Everyone looked over to the direction of George's room, seeing a very confused looking George holding his guitar by its neck in the door way.

Maybe the conversation was a bit entertaining after all. Maybe a bit too entertaining at some points.

It took everything in me to not take a picture of George standing there with no clue on what was going on. Mrs. Harrison would have loved a look at it.

"You've finally decided to hang out with the real world, now have you?" John asked in a funny little falsetto.

"No. But I was bored being all alone," said George slowly as he was still trying to take in the conversation Ringo and John had.

"Thanks for being honest. That's definitely bringing up my self-esteem," Brian muttered sarcastically. "And here I thought I was pleasant to be around."

George's eyes instantly grew wider at what Brian said. Maybe getting a camera now wasn't too late. . .

"No! I didn't mean it like that! I was just-" George tried to explain but our landlord burst out laughing before George could finish.

"You guys are mean," George fumed. He sat on the floor in a meditating position with a guitar in his lap and frustration on his face.

"I had nothing to do with it!" I shouted in an irritated manner.

"You let them continue to talk. That's enough for me," George answered smoothly.

"Brian! Tell him that's not fair!" I complained.

"That actually is fair in a sense of law. Politicians say so," Brian snickered.

"I hate politicians..." I summed up quickly.

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><p><strong>AN: **Welcome Pattie Boyd and Eric Clapton to the cast guys! More celebrities the Beatles knew and such will be appearing soon or later on so keep an eye on that. Look at that, Brian kind of got grumpy in this chapter. Isn't that a miracle? Not a very happy one but I know you guys have been waiting on that. See you Beatlemaniacs in the next chapter! For now, Twist and Shout your way to the review section!

Sending all my love,

Macca's Little Teddy Bear


	8. Happy Birthday Georgie!

**A/N: **Happy George Harrison Day! I hope you've spent it wearing jeans and cool t-shirts, along with acting very mysterious. To celebrate George Harrison Day, I've finally gotten a chapter out! Aren't you all excited? But, I don't own the Beatles. If I did, George Harrison day would be celebrated worldwide and you would hear "Here Comes The Sun" all day. Big thanks to ThisBirdHasFlownToRhye and omgringo for reviewing. Also, big thanks to Doctor Lennon 007 for giving me some bits of the story that I used along with reviewing. It really helped get this chapter out so. . .thanks to all of you! It may be short though . . .

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><p>I woke up with a huge smile on my face, but that wasn't because it was Saturday . . . that's in a few days. Nope, I was happy because it's my birthday today!<p>

I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to get ready for the big day.

"George! Where are you?" Paul asked from somewhere in the apartment. I think it was the kitchen, but I could never be sure.

"I'm getting ready for school! Did you forget that I have that today?" I asked in a teasing manner.

Suddenly, a large clutter of pots, pans and all that covered the sound of everything.

"I knew Paulie couldn't be trusted in a kitchen," I muttered as I dried myself off with a towel.

Picking out a simple black shirt and jeans was too easy, making it all the faster for me to get into the kitchen and see what smelled so good.

I was greeted by a very messy kitchen with sugar all over the floor. Paul had a big grin on his face and was pointing to the table like he was on a game show.

On the table were tons of pancakes, bacon, eggs, little doughnuts and orange juice. Had it not been for the fact that I was still distracted by the mess, I probably would have been drooling.

"What happened in here?" I asked, even though I probably knew the answer.

"I forgot that you had school . . . but I didn't forget your birthday!" Paul shouted happily.

"So how am I supposed to eat all of this before the bus comes? Or will you be driving me to school?"

His face dropped for a moment as he looked around the room. He put on a look of thoughtfulness and dropped that too for an excited look. It was almost like watching Doctor Who come up with a question.

"Umm, I don't know. Like you usually do: fast and very sloppy?"

"I thought you didn't like me digging in like that," I said slowly.

Paul rolled his eyes and started cleaning up with some sort of sugar induced speed. Typical overly clean Paul . . . what would I do without him?

Wait, forget I asked that question.

I started to stuff my face with the doughnuts first, because me and Paul came up with the agreement. It states that I can do whatever I want on my birthday so long as it's okay. And this is definitely okay.

By the time I was just about done with the small balls of goodness, Paul joined me at the table and took a sip of orange juice.

"Where did you put all that sugar?" I asked when I finally moved to the bacon.

"The garbage, obviously. It took a while but I cleaned it all up," Paul murmured. He raised an eyebrow and then immediately set down his orange juice with a frown on his face.

"Don't tell me you wanted it," Paul said in shock.

"Okay, I won't tell you then. Pass me the pancakes please," I said with laughter.

Paul was just about to pass them when he looked at the time. In the blink of an eye, he dropped the plate, got out of his seat and ran into the living room.

"You're going to be late for school!" He shouted as he was still inside the other room.

"I just stated eating these pancakes!" I shouted back to him. I crammed a few pieces of bacon in my mouth as I waited for Paul to come back.

A crash or two later, Paul came back with an odd smile on his face that I couldn't describe even if I could make up new words. Oh, and he had the keys in his hand too.

"You can eat your pancakes in the car. Wait, forget that. Just leave them here, we'll make up for it later," he said quickly. It was almost like he was talking to himself because he kept his head down and kept looking around like he was looking for something else.

I thought it was best if I just pulled him out of the apartment and down to the car, which is exactly what I did. He caught on in the end but for the most part he was still murmuring about things.

"Are you sure you can drive?" I asked Paul after the fifth time he started talking.

"Yeah! There is no way I'm trusting a new driver like you," Paul assured me as he got into the car. "But I might trust you more than John."

I chose not to question that last bit, merely getting in the car with him so he could drive me to school.

"How did you forget that I have school today? It's a Wednesday!" I said.

He bobbed his head to the side in thought then shrugged his shoulders.

"I was busy planning stuff, so things were forgotten. But you're going to have a cool birthday party, okay?"

"Will there be a lot of presents?"

"Wait till you get out of school, then you'll know. Maybe Pattie will remember you today," Paul joked as we pulled up to my school.

I rolled my eyes, pulling my backpack out from the back seat. Paul pulled me into a tight hug and I hugged back just as strongly.

"See you after school, Georgie," Paul sang in a very childish voice. I opened my door and stepped out giving him a wave goodbye.

"Nothing'll stop that, Paulie," I sang back in a silly falsetto. He drove off, probably to go to school or possibly to get the cake. Hopefully it'd be a chocolate cake.

I walked to my school, head definitely in the clouds as I walked to the doors and opened it. I probably wouldn't get any work done because I'd be off thinking about what we'd eat before having the cake, but that would be the school's problem. They really can't expect me to be on top when it's my 17th birthday.

As I kept thinking about food—which is surprisingly easy—a shadow fell over me. It's not like the person was taller than me, actually he's my exact same height, but I look a bit taller by a hair. He's only more muscular than me, and that's it, just because of stupid football. So I tried to ignore him as best as I could. Sad thing is, he's really good at getting people's attention.

"I'd like you to meet a new friend of mine, Geo," Eric said as he slung his arm across my shoulder. I thought I knew who he was talking about—since I saw him kiss that same person in front of the apartment building—so as not to try and strangle him, I went along with it.

"Really? Who is it, Eric?" I asked with forced questioning. He then led me the way there, even letting me take a detour to my lockers first so I wouldn't look weird. After that, we went the way there and waited in front of a bunch of lockers.

"Why are we waiting in front of your locker?" I asked with now genuine questioning. He shushed me instantly, looking at me as if I grew an extra head.

"Okay, it's your birthday Geo, so I'll let this little slip up slide. You didn't hear about the new kid that came to our school?"

I shook my head quickly and started looking around instantly for anyone that looked like they might be coming to the wall of lockers we were at.

"Well his name is Elvis, Elvis Presley. Cool name, don't you think? So I ended up talking to him after school and I figured out that he's learning the guitar. Just like us!" Eric practically shouted. People looked but the second they saw that it was us, they went back to their conversations.

My interest in the new guy heightened. "Seriously? Is he in any of our classes?"

Eric and I have all our classes together, which teachers apparently hate with a passion. It might be the fact that we get off topic all the time or that we somehow get good grades when we do nothing. Either way, I'm definitely not a teacher's pet and neither is Eric.

"No need to ask me, here he comes now," Eric whispered in excitement as someone came up to us.

He looked confused by my presence-I get that a lot, sometimes my awesomeness is just too much-so he totally ignored me. I could tell he was popular wherever he came from before, but it must have been in the 60's.

His hair was slicked back and really big at the front. He was also had on a leather jacket, which was really pushing the limits even though we don't have school uniforms. The big thing was that he already looked bored of everyone and he just got here.

"Hey, I'm George," I greeted him and held out a hand.

Elvis smiled widely now. He took my hand and shook it firmly.

"I'm Elvis, but I'm sure Eric here already told you that," said Elvis as he pointed to Eric who was watching everything happen.

"Hey! I can keep my mouth shut!" Eric argued.

"Sure you can. That's a total lie," Elvis and I said at the same time.

Eric rolled his eyes and pushed us in the direction of our science class. Elvis continuously said that he needed to get something from his locker but every time that happened, Eric would start making a random noise until Elvis stopped talking. That probably happened over ten times before we got into the room.

Of course our old science teacher, Mr. Jones gave us an odd look but once he saw the new kid it disappeared in an instant. I'd go off and saw how rude that is, but we can be late sometimes. Or most of the time. It just depends on when you care to pay attention.

Mr. Jones stood up the second the bell rang, as usual because he was always doing things on the dot. It could be pretty boring sometimes. Or all the time. Again, it just depends on when you really care to pay attention.

"For those of you who may not know," he droned in his monotone voice. He looked at Elvis, who was sitting next to me, a bit too long. "I am Mr. Jones, the chemistry teacher. I will start off with the attendance. Now Bueller . . . Bueller . . . Bueller . . ."

David snapped his head up after the third time his last name was called, looking around for a second before he saw the teacher. He gave a small grunt before slumping in his seat once again.

"Presley . . . Presley . . ."

Elvis was a bit more focused than David and so he looked up pretty quickly.

"Right here Mr. Jones!" he shouted in a voice that sounded a lot like a teenage girl's.

Eric and I both laughed hysterically at that, earning a rather bored look from Mr. Jones. He went through the rest of the attendance list at an even slower pace—which I thought was impossible but he likes to be impossible—and without missing a beat made us read from the textbooks.

"What was the girly voice for?" the quarterback asked in a snicker as he pretended to look at the book.

"This class is far more dull than the ones I've had back home. I had to do something!" the learning guitarist said back.

The rest of class was exactly like that. Actually, the rest of the school day was filed with someone making a joke and everyone else laughing. This had to be the end to an epic birthday at school.

But I am very happy to say I was wrong about that.

I walked over to my locker with my head back in the clouds like it was in the morning. Maybe John and Ringo would be there, it'd be more fun that way.

I opened my locker quickly and shoved all my textbooks and notebooks in there, only taking out the few I needed for my homework. When I closed it, someone was standing right there. Most likely the prettiest girl in school . . . Pattie Boyd.

"Umm, hi. What are you doing here?" I stuttered as I slung my backpack on my shoulder. I could feel my face grow red, making me just want to slap myself.

"I just wanted to say hi," she said quietly. She moved closer to me, to the point that if I tried to move, she'd be touching me. Like, really touching me.

"Oh, okay then!" I cheerfully said, still with a hint of awkwardness.

What happened next was unexpected. She practically shoved herself on me then kissed me! Of course she needed to stand on her toes because I'm taller than her by a few inches, but it was awesome.

"George! George wake up!" I heard Paul shout.

That wasn't right though. Paul didn't go to my school. And even when he did, he'd stay outside and wait in the car like he usually does.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Pattie was staring at me, with a different look compared to before. She was glaring at me rather than looking at me as if I was the last man on Earth.

"C'mon George, wake up. Your birthday doesn't last forever!" Paul shouted again and this time, I knew exactly where it was coming from. It was Pattie and it might have freaked me out a bit. Maybe a bit too much.

. . . . . . . . .

"I told you that Paul's yelling could freak someone out," John murmured to my left.

"I never disagreed. I didn't think it would be this badly," Ringo murmured back right next to him.

"I'm right here you know!" Paul shouted again. I jumped and just about hid under my covers.

"You did it again. All you need to do is shove that cake in his face and that'll be a great start to George's birthday!" John joked.

My head instantly popped out from under the covers. Did he just say cake?

"What kind of flavor?" I asked as I looked at the cake in Paul's hand.

"It's vanilla. With whipped cream frosting," Paul said with a whole lot of excitement. I frowned and looked at Paul with a bored look.

"But I like chocolate a lot more," I told him with a frustrated look.

"You're just saying that," Paul groaned, nearly dropping the cake on the ground. Ringo took it from him just in time, stepping far away from Paul with a serious look.

"My Aunt Mimi made this cake . . . for all I know it probably taste like chocolate," John said with a snicker.

"I thought she did pretty good last year for my birthday," Ringo argued as he held the cake even farther away from Paul.

"You're just saying that because she got you a car."

"A car she wouldn't need to get if you hadn't damaged my other one."

"You gave me your keys and said I could drive! I think it's all your fault, my no longer trusted assistant."

"I swear John, you say that one more time–!"

I tuned out the others, choosing to look at a very sneaky Paul who was trying to get the cake back. I chose not to mention the dream to them because I was hoping every moment of it would all be true. I mean, who wouldn't want a birthday like that?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **You will never get a straight answer on how I got this chapter to be made. Anyways, the chapter that was supposed to come before this will come out later so stay on the look out for that. Also, I've got a new choice for the poll. I bet all of you will really like it, if you remember him. Bye!

Sending all my love,

Macca's Little Teddy Bear


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